


you win some you lose some

by freshhellorwtv



Category: The Wilds (TV 2020)
Genre: Angst, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-19
Updated: 2021-01-19
Packaged: 2021-03-17 11:09:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,032
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28848096
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/freshhellorwtv/pseuds/freshhellorwtv
Summary: It’s pathetic. The jacket is heavy with the water it’s soaked up, useless, and only makes her colder than she already was. But still, she puts it on. She puts it on, and draws it around herself, and sobs. Her chest heaves with it, and it comes out dry and angry, but she doesn’t care. She doesn’t fucking care.//The water spits out Toni’s jacket. But its timing couldn’t have been worse.
Relationships: Martha Blackburn & Toni Shalifoe, Toni Shalifoe & the Unsinkable Eight
Comments: 11
Kudos: 87





	you win some you lose some

**Author's Note:**

> a huge thank you for the sweetest ppl out there, mon, miranda, milan, farmerin, kthegod, jordan and all y'all who made me feel better about trying to write angst

Toni left camp. She just couldn’t stay there anymore. She knows the girls are worried about her, but she doesn’t care. There’s nothing there for her. It's been almost two days since she left, and almost a week since it happened. But she needed to be alone.

She had marched her way to the far side of the island, sitting on a cliff overlooking angry looking rocks which she glared right back at with just as much anger.

Screw this island. Screw everything about this motherfucking place.

As much as she wants to ignore it, her head is just a loop. A single name on repeat and she wishes she could reach into her mind and pull it out. She’s never felt so alone in her entire life. Even if she wasn’t on a fucking deserted island, she’d feel the same way, she thinks. The universe has suddenly expanded in size and Toni feels like a lone ant, waiting to be stepped on next. Her body seems far away yet constricting, and despite having walked nonstop for the past day, she can’t stop thinking.

Suddenly, she doesn’t know why, a flash of color on the otherwise gray landscape catches her eye. Pulling herself away from her thoughts, she thinks she can see something caught in between the rocks she had been staring at for – how long now? Hours, probably. Getting to her feet, bones creaking from disuse, she treks down the cliff to where it meets the raging sea. Closer now, she spots the bag, and it makes her stop in her tracks. She feels her heart stop, summersault, and start again, and she can’t handle what she’s feeling right now. What a fucking cruel island.

Too many emotions are swirling in her chest, and she decides to put herself to work. It would take enough maneuvering and physical exertion to get to her bag that she would have no time to think. And if she slips on the way, so be it. 

Later, longer than she thought it would be, as Toni lays down on the island once more, bruised and bloody and wet to the bone, she’d realize it was pretty stupid to make her way over such dangerous terrain for one bloody bag. But she still doesn’t care. She doesn’t matter, and the only reason she had ever mattered was gone now.

As Toni finally catches her breath, she sits up and stares at the wet bag next to her. She can’t fucking believe this sad sack of shit is what washed ashore. It’s not Fatin’s water-tight suitcase or even Martha’s cozy bag with its Uno cards and frog cape. It’s just hers.

Slowly, as if the bag could snap out and bite her, Toni reaches for her possessions. She pulls on the zipper, water seeping out, and reaches inside, looking for only one thing.

There. She pulls out her mother’s jacket – no, Toni’s now. She pulls out her jacket, and it's sopping wet. But she doesn’t care. She’s already soaked to the bone with saltwater and blood, and she puts the jacket on.

It’s pathetic. The jacket is heavy with the water it’s soaked up, useless, and only makes her colder than she already was. But still, she puts it on. She puts it on, and draws it around herself, and sobs. Her chest heaves with it, and it comes out dry and angry, but she doesn’t care. She doesn’t fucking care.

Fuck this island. She doesn’t want the bloody jacket – she wants her best friend. Her person. Her sister.

And her jacket sitting on her shoulders only makes her think of her mother. It’s, as usual, a short journey of thought, and quickly enough turns to Mrs. Blackburn. She feels the lump in her throat harden even more, somehow. If she ever makes it off this island alive, how could she ever look at Mrs. Blackburn again. She’d be at the airport, waiting to see Martha, and only Toni would emerge.

She doesn’t want to do it. She can’t do it.

But no one’s ever given Toni what she wants. And no matter how hard she fought, a fucking plane could just crash out of the sky and take it. Then the sea would cough up something in return.

_ Fucking awful trade,  _ she thinks bitterly. She might still be crying, but through the ocean spray she can’t tell, and the burn in her eyes matches the burn from the cuts all over her body. And it’s better, somehow. Better than sitting dry and glaring at the rocks.

An hour passes, maybe. Toni and her jacket don’t get any drier, and she’s had no success starting a fire without the cluster’s handy lighter. So, she begins the trek back, wet bag on her wet jacket on her small soaked frame. Her shoes make squelching sounds, and she looks fucking pathetic. Feels fucking pathetic. Feels angry beyond any anger she’s ever felt in her life.

“Toni!”

A voice snaps her out of her thoughts. She raises her head from the ground she had been glaring at, and realizes she’s already near camp. She had been walking like a zombie, head down, and she’s amazed that she got here with such little effort. Like this place was a fucking homing beacon.

It’s Fatin. She had been undergoing her usual self-care routine, which Toni sort of admired her for being able to pull of in this fucking hellscape. But she’s just looking at Toni with worry, and she realizes what she must look like. It's a gloomy but dry day, and here’s Toni, showing up looking like a cat that fell in the ocean and bounced off a few rocks along the way.

Toni realizes she hasn’t said anything yet, was just staring at Fatin with a blank face. Fatin steps out of the sea and walks towards Toni. By the time she’s face to face with the girl, she still hasn’t said anything else. She stops in front of Toni, looks her up and down. There’s another long silence, and Toni wonders what Fatin’s going to go with. If it's pity she might just sock her in the face. Call it payback for Dot. 

“Cool threads. There a sale?”

Toni lets out a breath she didn’t know she was holding. She just barely upturns the corners of her mouth, for Fatin. Her eyelids feel droopy, as do her shoulders.

“I just wanna dry off.”

Fatin looks at her for another long moment, and Toni distracts herself by wondering what Fatin is thinking. She doesn’t want to think about anything else. She wants to keep this divide between her body and her mind and her emotions, else she might break, and break everything around her. Martha had asked her to stop doing that. It would just feel like an insult to her memory.

Toni immediately cuts off that line of thinking, and Fatin helps her by raising an eyebrow, finally. “You look like you need more than just the fire. Dorothy can fix you up, let’s go.” She reaches out and plucks the bag off of Toni’s shoulders, which Toni allows without a fight. Fatin doesn’t try to remove the jacket. Together, they walk to the fire and the girls surrounding it.

As they approach, Toni studiously keeps her head down, avoiding the others’ worried looks. She only shoots a small glance at Dot, who looks at her and at Fatin. Fatin and Dot’s bond seems to have grown, somehow, because although no words are exchanged, Dot just nods and takes out their aid kit.

Fatin sits Toni down by the fire while Dot gets settled next to her. Soon enough, Dot’s bringing the antiseptic gauze up to the scrapes all along Toni’s legs, but it still feels far away and dim to her. Toni just gazes into the fire, not flinching. She tries not to notice the glances the girls shoot one another, and tries not to feel the pair of golden eyes belonging to a certain Texan that haven’t left her since she sat down. She can feel a restless anger rise in her at the way they’re treating her like fragile glass, but she clamps down on it, jaw clenching again and again.

“These are pretty impressive, what, did you try to beat Rachel’s diving score?”

Toni’s face doesn’t move at Dot’s feeble attempt to get her talking when she replies, “Was just getting my bag.”

Dot clears her throat awkwardly and stands up from next to Toni. “Alright, well can you take the jacket off? I’m sure there are some on your arms too.”

Toni shakes her head. Dot sighs, and looks to the others for help.

“Pretty fucking useless bag if you ask me.”

Toni’s head snaps to the offending speaker. Rachel just gazes cooly back at her, ignoring the warning looks the other girls are now sending her.

“I mean, there’s pretty much nothing in here, and I don’t think any of it is ever going to dry off. Plus, you’re way too small for any of us to wear your clothes. Probably shouldn’t have bothered getting it, considering-”

“Sorry that we can’t all have fucking water-tight suitcases,” Toni snaps.

“Right, but the least you could do is take off that useless jacket and let Dot help you.”

Toni is immediately on her feet. “I don’t fucking  _ want  _ any of your help. I just wan-” She stops suddenly and takes a deep breath. She’s not going to do this. She  _ can _ walk away. Toni spins on her heel and starts heading away from camp, but doesn't notice that Rachel’s on her feet too and following her.

“Where are you going? You going to disappear again for damn near two days and have us worried about you when we literally  _ just _ lost-”

Toni snaps back so suddenly that Rachel nearly runs into her. Despite their glaring height difference, her anger towers over Rachel.

“When we just  _ what _ , Rachel.” Toni feels hatred climbing in her gut, but as much as she wishes, it’s not towards Rachel. Her hands come out of her pockets, and they’re covered in the tattered remains of a note Martha passed her a lifetime ago. She can’t even remember what it said, and the sea ripped it apart.

Rachel, still too calm, looks at Toni. “You  _ know _ what.”

Toni stares at her a little longer before turning her back and continuing to walk away. “I’m going to Martha.”

“Martha’s  _ dead _ , Toni.” That stops Toni in her tracks. Her fists are clenched at her sides, shivering with the faint control of rage. Out of the corner of her eye she sees Shelby and Dot flinch, and ignores that too.

Fuck it. She says a quick sorry to Martha, because she’s definitely going to hurt someone today.

“You don’t think I  _ fucking  _ know that?!” She closes the distance between her and Rachel in a second. “You think I’ve forgotten that we fucking  _ buried  _ her, Rachel?! So if you don’t fucking mind, I’m going to visit her  _ grave _ , because fuck if it isn’t better company than you.”

“Fuck you, Toni. We all lost Martha. Then we thought we lost you too.” Toni flinches. “I knew you barely fucking cared, but jeez you’d think you’d at least give a fuck about the only people who care about you.”

Toni shoves Rachel, and the other girls clamor around but don't interrupt. “You really wanna fucking fight me right now, Reid?! You’ve got one fucking hand.”

“That’s one more than I need for your small ass.” And the dam breaks.

Martha would laugh, Toni thinks dimly, that it’s an insult to her height that lets the first fist fly, but she doesn’t care. She’s too caught up in anger, sadness, and shame, and as she tussles with Rachel it all comes tumbling out. Rachel may have only one hand but she’s got the size and strength advantage, and she gives as good as she gets. Dimly, as her fist connects with Rachel’s midriff right before Rachel lashes out with her leg, she can hear the other girls clamoring and yelling different things, but her world has narrowed down to this fight. Just like the dangerous trek to get her bag, it blots out all the ugliness swirling inside of her. Rachel’s fist catches her mouth, and Toni quickly wipes her bloody lip on her mother’s jacket before tackling Rachel to the floor. 

It proves to be a mistake. Taking the fight to the ground gives Rachel another advantage, and after a few tussles and turns she’s on top of Toni, and pins her to the ground as she struggles. Toni tries to bring a knee up between Rachel’s legs, but as she lashes out she hears her grunts slowly turn into sobs. 

“Get  _ off, _ ” she growls, her voice breaking as she struggles to land a blow. “ _ Fuck  _ you, fuck -” a sob catches in her throat. As if watching herself from afar, she feels her limbs tire out after a long day of not eating, of no water, of a tedious climb for a bullshit gift from the ocean, of the heavy jacket weighing her down. Rachel’s grip turns into a hug, encases Toni’s limbs that have stopped struggling, and holding her as she gets her crying under control.

“I’ve got you,” she hears Rachel whisper in her ear. “I’m sorry, I know. I’ve got you.”

She doesn’t know how long they stay there, sand mixing with the water on her jacket and turning to mud. Rachel doesn’t seem to care, and she keeps her arms around Toni. The ugliness is spilling over, and now that it’s out of its cage it just won’t go back in. But Rachel is holding her, and gently tapping her shoulder. Before she knows it, she’s been gently tugged into a sitting position, and she feels Rachel’s arms leave her. The next thing she’s fully aware of is Shelby. The girl is gently removing the jacket from Toni, before she once again disappears from view and is replaced by Dot, who goes to work tending Toni’s wounds. Looking around, Toni sees they’ve returned to the fire. She’s not sure when she walked over.

The campfire is silent, the sounds of Nora tending to the blows Toni landed on Rachel the only other noise. Suddenly, Fatin speaks up.

“Martha never condoned violence, but I think she’d find it pretty fucking funny that you lost to Rachel when you’ve got double the amount of thumbs.”

Six sets of eyes turn to Fatin in shock. Then, five turn slowly towards Toni.

And Toni… well. She fucking laughs. “She would never let me hear the end of it.”

Dot smiles as she cleans a rather deep gash near Toni’s elbow. “I’m pretty sure Martha could have taken you in a fight, if she ever fought. She got that goat when none of us did.”

Toni’s features soften. “Yea, she did.” Dot finishes up and moves to sit next to her.

“I think-” it’s Shelby, tentatively speaking up, “Well, you look kind of cold.” Then, gently, she drapes Martha’s frog cape over Toni’s shoulders. Toni looks at her, and it feels like a blindfold has been lifted. Slowly, she looks around the camp.

Leah, who hasn’t said much, has damn near picked off her right eyebrow in the past week. Nora has been even quieter than usual, no funny lame jokes to pick the rest up. Dot has taken to extreme levels of survival, getting stricter than ever with rations and pulling up every scrap of survivor knowledge she’s accumulated. Fatin has smiled less even as she’s tried to make the rest laugh. Rachel - well. Rachel had known exactly what Toni needed. Maybe because Rachel needed it too. And Shelby…

Toni looks back at Shelby. Her demeanor the past week has reminded her of when the plane flew over, what feels like a lifetime ago; she’s hurting. A lot.

And these girls… Martha loved them too. Toni knows she did. 

Toni swallows before speaking. “I’m sorry.” The girls look at her questioningly. “I’m sorry for leaving,” she looks at Shelby while she talks - she can’t look at them all. “And for… not considering your feelings.” It’s something Martha would have said. It’s something Martha  _ has  _ said, to Toni, once.

“Have you considered…” Fatin starts slowly, “That you’re sitting in wet socks? Like, what the fuck dude. Here.” Toni chuckles softly as she accepts the warm socks and starts changing into them.

“And, you dumbass. It’s okay.”

“Toni,” it’s Nora now, speaking up. It’s a bit strange to hear her voice, and it has an unusual crack to it. Probably from disuse, Toni thinks. Nora is looking at her intently, and Toni looks back in confusion. “I’m... sorry. I’m sorry.”

Toni just shakes your head. “It’s not your fault.” She doesn’t catch the way Dot shifts her eyes away.

She doesn’t know what brings her to keep talking, but she does. “I don’t know how to tell Martha’s mom.” She takes a shuddering breath in. “Marty… she’s the best thing in her life. In both of our lives.”

The girls are quiet. There’s not much to say to that. There’s nothing that can fix this, nothing anyone can do or say that could bring Martha back. Dot reaches out and taps Toni on the thigh, remembering when Shelby did it for her, ages ago.

And it’s Shelby who speaks up. “It’s… it’s going to suck. For a long time. And it won’t ever really go away.” Toni’s looking right at her now, calm after her outburst with Rachel seeped her fight away. Next to her, Dot is looking at Shelby as well, eyebrows furrowed. “But with time, it’ll be the good things that stay with you. She’ll be gone, that won’t change. But one day, when you think of Martha, it’ll be about the beauty she brought into this world.”

Toni continues to look at Shelby. After a long moment, she finally answers, voice scratchy. “Yeah. One day.” For now, she just pulls Marty’s cape tighter around her shoulders, her mother’s jacket hung out to dry on the rocks nearby.


End file.
